


when i try to take one step towards you

by gayforchae



Series: distance [1]
Category: Men's Basketball RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, College, Dubious Consent, M/M, Making Out, My First Smut, Praise Kink, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut, Spit As Lube, im terrible at smut but i promise i tried
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-06-26 12:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayforchae/pseuds/gayforchae
Summary: lebron is apparently the only motivation steph needs to do great.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! This is the first chapter what will hopefully be my first successful (and completed) series!  
> I've been working hard writing and perfecting this for a while so I really hope people enjoy it. This is also my first book I've ever actually published online that has a smut scene (and also my first published making out scene) so I hope it isn't too terrible.  
> The three chapters of this book are all completed but I'm going to wait a few days before publishing each one so I can have time to edit them. Hope you enjoy!^^

It had started back when Steph was at Davidson.

About two weeks before his game against NC State, he’d been out at a popular “college kid” restaurant with some friends and teammates. Despite how a few of his buddies were drinking, he stuck with just his water – they always wanted to check his age, and he still had to wait four months to be 21. This, unfortunately, left him sitting in a booth bored out of his mind while his drunk friends fucked around on the dance floor and at the bar.

His shitty flip phone went off in his pocket while he was leaning on the table across from his friend Steve, both of them watching one of his friends try to seduce some girl he’d decided that he was interested in across the room. Deciding anything would be better than watching his friend’s upcoming failure, Steph took out his phone and flicked it open with one finger, a curious expression taking over his features as he read out a text from none other than LeBron James, whose number he’d gotten back when he and two of his teammates got to go into the Cavs’ locker room after a game and hang with the players for a while.

_hey, u busy 2nite?_

He sucked a cheek in with his teeth to chew on it – a tic he’d developed that he seemed to only do whenever his mouthguard wasn’t around. LeBron didn’t text him very often. They’d talked a little after Steph’s game in Detroit against Wisconsin, which was the first time Steph even found out LeBron knew who he was. That in itself was a huge honor but it got even better when he went to the Cavs game three days after being knocked out of the tournament and was personally invited into the locker room to hang out with all the players.

Despite it obviously being an amazing experience, the locker room hadn’t been the best part of his night. He vividly remembered LeBron making a particularly difficult basket, then immediately turning around and pointing directly to Steph. That one moment made him worried that his heart would fly out of his chest from how hard and fast it was beating. But he stood up then, cheering and grinning at the man as he turned away to continue playing.

That was their first real interaction, because after the game in Detroit Steph hadn’t gotten a chance to hunt down the older man before he left. They’d texted a little bit after exchanging numbers, offering praise back and forth (with Steph giving most of it, because this was one of his idols he was talking to and he couldn’t _not_ compliment every possible part of his game), but nothing big. Just casual acquaintance talk.

Their casual relationship was what made the text weird. Steph had also always been the one to initiate conversation with the older man, usually some compliment referring to a play LeBron had done during a game Steph watched, or something like that. It was a little strange to be getting a text from him, at nearly midnight on a weekday, without anything to possibly propel him to do so. But Steph didn’t really care, because fucking LeBron James was texting _him_ and there was no way he could not reply.

_uh not really, why?_

Surprisingly, LeBron replied only moments later.

_im in town. thought we could hang out._

Steph felt that familiar heart pounding sensation, cheeks reddening just a little bit at the proposition. LeBron James had not only texted him, but wanted to hang out. Was it even possible to say no?

Suddenly too excited to even bothering to reply, Steph leaned across the table and started aggressively smacking Steve’s arm to get his attention. “Dude, what the fuck? Stop,” the other man said, lightly swatting Steph’s hands away. “The fuck d’ya want?”

“I’m goin’ out for the night,” Steph told him, and quickly added “m’tired,” to get rid of the confused expression on his face. “Tell the guys for me if they ask.”

Steve nodded. “G’night,” he said, and Steph replied with his own “night,” before grabbing his bag and heading out the door. As he was walking out, he heard two girls to his left mumble something about his ass, smiling and giggling when he glanced in their direction for a second, but he quickly turned away and didn’t pay them any mind. He was going to hang with LeBron James, and there was nothing he could possibly care about more in that moment.

Except, maybe, where to go, because he’d forgotten to ask in the middle of his frenzy to get out of the restaurant.

_where you at?_

He turned and walked into the parking lot, fishing around in his pocket for his car keys. When he reached his car, he pulled them out and unlocked the doors, hopping in and bouncing once on his plush driver’s seat cushion. His phone dinged as he started the car, and he immediately grabbed it to check the notification.

_by ur campus entrance. u close?_

Steph quickly typed out a response letting the other man know he was only like five minutes away, and after he sent it, he flicked his phone shut, tossed it into his cupholder and put the car into drive.

True to his word, when Steph arrived at the school gates LeBron was waiting there under the bright streetlights for him. He was dressed in gray sweats, a red headband around his head soaking up a little bit of sweat. _Maybe he was out running?_ Steph’s mind supplied as a reason for the choice of dress. Steph admittedly wasn’t dressed out of this world or anything either – donning a pair of old slacks with a black t-shirt and a thin fleece jacket (because it had gotten a little cold at night), but the fact that this wasn't just some random street guy but instead LeBron fucking James dressed in street clothes felt a little weird.

“Hey,” LeBron said with a toothy grin as Steph hopped out of his car. Steph smiled back a little awkwardly, still having no idea what he was supposed to do.

“Uh, hey,” he settled on replying with, running his teeth across his bottom lip lightly. “Didn’t, ah, think I’d see ya here till a couple weeks from now.” He wrung his hands together, for some reason almost completely unable to control his nerves.

LeBron gave a short laugh, leaning against one of the gate’s pillars behind him. “Had some free time, so I thought I’d stop by.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket, and reached out to Steph. “Want one?”

Steph shook his head, and watched silently as LeBron shrugged, pulled out a cigarette of his own and put it in his mouth. He lit it up and let it sit for a few seconds before taking it out and blowing out a large puff of smoke, and Steph stepped out of the way of the toxic cloud. He inhaled a little bit of the smoke and coughed a few times, trying to force it all out in an embarrassed panic.

“So…did you want somethin’?” he asked after the coughing fit subsided, sticking his tongue into his cheek. He didn’t know how to go about asking LeBron what exactly he was doing, asking Steph to hang out late at night when he wasn’t even supposed to be here for another two weeks, so he decided to just go at it straightforward.

LeBron let out another puff of smoke, directing this one away from Steph after seeing his response to the first puff. “I’on know, just, ah…I wanted’ta come see you.” The words came out more like a question than a solid answer, but somehow they still had an affect on Steph, who froze on the spot as his cheeks began to burn. “We don’t talk much. Thought we shared numbers to, y’know, talk.”

Steph sucked in a cheek and looked away from LeBron, focusing on a suddenly very interesting pigeon that had landed on the curb next to him. “I mean, you don’t really make much of an effort to text me,” he pointed out, watching the bird peck at some crumbs left on the ground. He glanced back over for a second, and immediately turned away again when he saw LeBron’s eyes trained directly on his own. “U-usually, at least,” he added nervously.

He didn’t know if it was safe to look back, because he was feeling something strange down in his gut now, but the pigeon decided to fly away and now he didn’t have an excuse to be staring at the ground besides his anxiety. He forced his eyes up off the cement, and once again he was making eye contact with LeBron.

“Guess I wanted’ta change that, then.” LeBron took out another cigarette, lit it and stuck it in his mouth in the span of only about three seconds. He let out yet another puff, and Steph took a chance to try to figure out his mood, but LeBron’s expression gave nothing away. His shoulders were relaxed as he adjusted himself slightly against the wall, his eyes never leaving Steph’s own. “D’ya wanna get drinks?” He asked, tapping the cigarette against the pillar behind him.

Steph shook his head, hunching his shoulders a little. “They ain’t ever gonna let me get into a bar without checkin’ my ID, so I ain’t gonna get away with it. ‘Sides, was just at a restaurant with my guys. Not in much of a mood to go back when I’m not even havin’ fun.” He realized too late that the long justification was completely unnecessary and his nervous mind was just making him babble, and mentally facepalmed. _Smooth, dumbass._

“Damn, forgot for a sec that you’re only eighteen,” LeBron scoffed, a mocking grin forming across his lips. Steph pouted a little. “I’m twenty, asshole,” he mumbled, pulling his arms up to his chest to cross them partly out of annoyance but also part out of insecurity.

LeBron’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened just a little bit. “You can say that all ya want, butcha still look like a damn teenager.” He walked over to Steph, his large size intimidating the smaller man. “So small. Easy.”

Steph backed up two steps nervously as LeBron got a little too close for comfort. “…What?” He spluttered, not knowing what the hell was going on now. Did LeBron James just call him easy? What? What the fuck did that even mean?

“You heard me,” the larger man said, and he took yet another step closer. Steph kept backing up, but stopped when he realized any more steps would put him in the street. LeBron got close enough to where Steph could feel the hot breath from his nose on his cheeks, which were probably red as hell considering how much they burned with embarrassment and anxiety due to the close quarters. “You’re _easy_. How I like.”

It was suddenly becoming hard for Steph to breathe. He hesitantly lifted his hands up, intending to push LeBron back a little but deciding against it at the last second, curiosity biting at the edges of his mind. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice small and nervous, but a little eager. There was no way LeBron was...but if he actually _was_...

A finger brushed across his cheek, making him almost jump. "D'ya want me to...?" LeBron's voice was deep, gravelly, and Steph wanted to just drop to his knees right then and there because _holy shit._ He didn't need to give a subject - he knew Steph knew, could probably tell from a mile away considering how much Steph's cheeks burned in the moment. Steph nodded quickly, his silent _yes, yes please_ , still in a bit of disbelief. Maybe he was dead, because there was no way in hell LeBron was actually asking him this question, no way they were even this close together... Steph had never been with anyone, had never done anything, always looking on from afar, never acting on any of his desires. But here was LeBron, leaning over him, taking up all the space in Steph's tiny world and yet still not enough, and he didn't know what to do, what to say, what to think.

He didn't need to do anything though, because, as if he knew he had to break Steph out of his thoughts somehow, LeBron pressed his lips to Steph’s. He wasn’t gentle – they went down hard from the beginning, and LeBron quickly took control as he licked Steph’s lips (which were still closed from shock) requesting entrance.

Steph, in some sort of daze, actually did what he was being wordlessly asked to do, opening his mouth to let LeBron in. He felt the tongue immediately get inside of his mouth, exploring every inch of newly discovered area. He blinked for a second, trying to force himself out of his odd trance, but he was shocked to find himself leaning into the kiss and wanting more.

He shut his eyes as LeBron’s arm snaked around behind him back and pulled him close, pushing his tongue in further. He let out a small moan in response, eyes opening the slightest bit to see LeBron with his own eyes open staring down at him and refusing to remove his tongue. Steph didn’t know what the hell had come over him, but suddenly he was the one yanking LeBron even closer, and threw a leg behind LeBron’s knees as he grabbed onto the larger man to pull himself onto him, which in turn brought LeBron’s other arm around his back. His pants felt much tighter than usual, and he vaguely thought he could feel a familiar twitch down low. LeBron's leg accidentally brushed over his clothed member, and in his suddenly very turned on state the simple touch managed to get yet another moan out of Steph.

There was a sudden flash of light, so quick Steph's brain hardly registered it, but it left a spot in his eyes, and he whimpered, a little confused. When he opened his eyes fully, though, there was nothing noticeable behind LeBron, the empty street too dark for anything to be visible. He wanted to think about it, but his brain turned fully to mush when LeBron kissed even harder, holding him in a bruising grip and forcibly removing any other thoughts from his mind. He didn't need to care about anything else.

As his vision was starting to blur from lack of oxygen, LeBron finally pulled away, and Steph leaned his head in the crook of the man’s neck as he gasped for air. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his now swollen lips together and wincing at the twinge of pain he felt at the touch.

“You liked that?” LeBron asked, voice raspy and ragged from lack of breath. Steph nodded, the top of his head rubbing against the stubble on the older man’s chin and cheek. He felt almost like he was high, the sense of euphoria nearly overwhelming. _LeBron didn’t even fuck him, and he was reacting like this._ He briefly wondered how much more intensified this would all be if they went further, but pushed the thought away. He didn't want to get too carried away.

LeBron was holding him up, both of his arms wrapped tightly around Steph’s waist as he took in deep breaths, chest rising and falling so much Steph could feel it hitting his stomach. “That's what I wanted,” he said, whispering directly into Steph’s ear and sending chills down his spine and jitters through his already wobbly legs.

His tight grip on Steph’s waist suddenly loosened, and in a panic, thinking he was going to be dropped, Steph tightened his own grips on LeBron’s shirt, which elicited a chuckle from the older man. “I’m just puttin’ you down. Don’t get crazy.” Steph let out a breath, releasing the poor shirt from his iron grip as LeBron set him down on the ground more gently than he'd expected from someone who he knew was incredibly strong.

A car pulled up seconds later, bright headlights flashing in Steph’s eyes and making him pull a hand away from LeBron’s back to cover them. “That’s my ride,” LeBron said, giving Steph another unreadable grin. _When the hell did he call a ride?_ Before he could ask his question out loud, the hands that were still sitting on his waist left and LeBron was walking away. He wanted to say something, anything, but when he tried to speak no words came out of his mouth.

LeBron turned back as he opened the car door, the confusing grin remaining on his lips as he stared directly at Steph. “I’ll see ya in two weeks,” he shouted over the car’s loud music being blasted from the radio inside. “You’d better bring it.”

Steph swallowed, and nodded once. “I will,” he yelled back, voice shaking from a combination of his nerves, their previous little "session," and shock. LeBron gave him one more curt nod before sliding into the car seat, slamming the door shut behind him. The car left seconds later, leaving behind a trail of dust as Steph could only look on in shock and confusion.

He touched his lips with one finger, bringing it down to stare at the saliva he’d collected in awe. Some of that mixture was LeBron’s, he mused a little dazedly. He glanced back up at the car, which had mostly faded away in the darkness with the distance it had gained by that point.

Steph was far too excited to see what two weeks from then would bring.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LeBron's Taco Tuesday video on his IG story made me fucking screech. I didn't think he'd make a part 2 and he fucking did, AND he included AD... I'm not okay. He's so fucking funny and such a good dad and it's not fair I wanna have tacos with him >:((((
> 
> This one's a little shorter because it's a game sequence and I can't find a full recording of the game so I had to just write based off the box score/stats and highlight reels, and I didn't wanna be inaccurate (and I suck at action lmao). But I hope it's okay!!

Two weeks later found Steph on the court of the Charlotte Bobcats, practicing some fancy dribble technique he’d learned a week before and had decided that he was going to master. He went in and out between his legs three times, expertly spinning around on his defender (who was just his teammate Bryant, and who wasn’t really trying very hard defending him, but still) and releasing a picture-perfect midrange jumper that _splashed_ into the net exactly how he’d wanted. “Atta girl,” he shouted at the ball as it fell through the net, grinning ear to ear at Bryant, who just shook his head with a smile on his face as he grabbed the rebound and took a fadeaway jumper.

It was thirty minutes before the game. He was trying to think about anything other than LeBron, because he desperately needed to get himself focused, but that was proving somewhat difficult – two hours before the game, the older man had texted him for the first time since their “hanging out” two weeks before to tell him that he’d try to show up to the game, but it’d be hard because he had his own game in the same court that night to prepare for. Steph knew not to keep his hopes high, because he of all people knew how some players would get before games and how dedicated many were to their pregame routines. He didn't want to be the reason LeBron's rhythm was all fucked up in his own game, because he skipped out on his routine just to watch Steph.

But he still couldn’t help himself, and every so often he would glance toward the stands in the hopes that he’d see LeBron, probably flanked by one or two security guards or his friends, walking down the stairs to watch him play. Unfortunately, until that point, he’d seen no sign of the older man and was starting to believe he wasn’t coming.

As a ball got passed into his hands and he readied himself to take a shot, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to be met with one of their team’s starting forwards, Andrew Lovedale, who looked at him with pure excitement in his eyes before glancing away to look at something that seemed very interesting, because he kept glancing back and forth between Steph and whatever it was. “Dude, holy shit,” Andrew gasped out, and Steph was concerned for a second until the man’s face morphed into a huge smile. “Look behind you!"

Confused, Steph did as he was told, and immediately was left gaping as he saw none other than LeBron James with a few members of his entourage taking a courtside seat next to some investor, putting down his own cushion so he could sit comfortably and staring directly at Steph throughout the whole ordeal. He gave the smaller man a wink, and mouthed a few words that Steph could hardly make out from his far distance, but as soon as he understood two or three of the words, he knew exactly what the man was trying to say – “you'd better bring it.”

He gave one nod in response, a big smile of his own now appearing on his face, and then his attention was snapped back to the court when Andrew placed an arm over his shoulders to put in in close. “I guess the pressure’s on tonight, eh?” He said into Steph’s ear, and any nervousness the man may have been feeling was perfectly masked by his overwhelming excitement. “God, this just got so fuckin’ cool. I’m stoked.”

Steph laughed, trying to shrug the large arm off of him so he could go back to his shooting practice. “Same, man,” he replied, still grinning ear to ear. He was ready to show LeBron everything in him, and prove himself. He would fucking bring it like it was the last thing he'd ever do.

There was a phantom tingle on his lips, and Steph put the ball under his left arm to bring up his right hand to touch them for a moment. He pulled his finger down, staring almost in an entranced way. LeBron’s lips were there just two weeks ago, taking full control of his entire body and giving him everything he could've possibly wanted and more. _I’m gonna get him to give me that again._ His grin became a little devious, his eyes narrowing slightly.

He had a new goal in mind now.

* * *

“Curry puts the Wildcats up by one; he’s got thirty-nine with two minutes left to play!”

Steph paused for a moment on the court to put his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. The game certainly had been a challenge, with the Wildcats not even getting a lead until the second half, and he was easily the main force keeping his team in it – he’d helped them recover from large point deficits, and he’d acquired them their first lead of the game along with a few other important baskets.

He was still elated from finding out that LeBron was impressed with him – the man had even stood up, clapping proudly after Steph sank a midrange shot off the glass to secure a six point lead for his team. He’d also heard during halftime from his teammates who’d been listening to the people around them that apparently LeBron was getting on the refs for their officiating, having believed that they weren’t calling enough fouls against NC State that specifically were hindering Steph’s performance. He’d already gotten used to the fouls people could get away with on him, since he was usually much smaller and therefore the refs didn’t pay as much attention to what was happening to him, so he didn’t really care about how they were grabbing him and pushing him around, but having LeBron James defending you and saying you deserved better treatment was a pretty good feeling, to say the least.

The ball ended up back in his hands very quickly, the Wolfpack unable to retake the lead with another basket on their end of the court. He ran it down slowly, walking around the back of his end of the court to run down the clock and strategize. He finally noticed an opening – one of his teammates standing in the corner. Strategy set in his mind, Steph darted past his defender, making to run into the paint for an easy two, and in the process drawing his corner teammate’s defender in to help stop him. As soon as the other man was free, Steph passed the ball in his direction, and a corner three immediately flew up into the air.

Unfortunately, the only thing it got was air, sailing way past the net and not touching the rim. The shot clock was still running down, below ten seconds now, and Steph watched Steve sprint in, grabbing the rebound before anyone else could react. Steph ran far back on the court, clapping his hands loudly to catch Steve’s attention for a pass. Steve noticed and immediately tossed the ball to him, and, having no idea how much time was left on the shot clock but just knowing it wasn’t a lot, Steph let up a very deep three with two guys running to stop him.

The shot was bad, and would be considered stupid had it been under any other circumstances and shot by any other player, and it shouldn’t have gone in. But these weren’t any other circumstances, and this wasn’t any other player.

This was Stephen Curry, and this was _his_ shot, and it went in with a picture-perfect _splash_.

The crowd absolutely _erupted_ with screams and cheers of joy and amazement.

Exhilarated and high on adrenaline, Steph spun on his heel to walk back, grinning proudly at his incredible success. He surveyed the audience looking for LeBron, and, remembering how the older man had pointed at him after making a difficult shot during the Cavs game he’d went to, gave him a smirk, pointed directly to him, and stared him down as he ran down the court feeling like he was on top of the world. LeBron stood up, hands in the air with a big smile on his own face.

The screams intensified at the two gestures, and Steph almost worried that his own smile would fall off his face with how big it was getting. His teammates clapped him on the back, giving him praise and cheers as they shook him and ruffled his hair in that typical friendly fashion. “Fuck yeah, man!” he heard from somewhere to his left, and felt a hard smack on the back from one of the seniors on the team behind him.

That shot seemed to set them all off, and for the rest of the game the Wildcats didn’t let anything get past them easily. Steph ended up getting two more points, which ended up tying his career high, but it didn’t have nearly as much of an impact as his incredible shot. The Wildcats were able to secure the victory and hold up their lead, winning 72-67.

Steph did a short interview with one of Davidson’s official reporters, bouncing back and forth on his feet the whole time in an attempt to get rid of some of the intense energy he was still feeling after how he’d played. He kept glancing behind him throughout the interview, trying to get a view of LeBron’s seat on the other side to make sure he hadn’t left, but there were so many people crowding the court he couldn’t see the man’s seat at all.

He answered questions with a shaky voice, unable to control it very much due to all the adrenaline running through him (and the excitement of getting to find LeBron soon after he was finished, but he wouldn't admit that). The interviewer luckily seemed to notice and told him she’d let him off early, but she expected a follow up tomorrow, which he gladly agreed to. As soon as he was set free, he turned on his heel and ran through the crowd on the court, wriggling between people and earning a few more pats on the back for his stellar performance as he tried to reach the other side as quickly as possible.

As he broke through past the last of the crowd, an excited grin took its position on his face. “I told ya that I’d-” he started, thinking when he escaped the last few people LeBron would be right there where he'd been sitting throughout the game, but stopped suddenly, and the smile turned into a frown as disappointment wrapped its slimy tendrils around his heart.

LeBron’s seat was already empty.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of book one! Here's my first actual smut, I hope it doesn't suck TOO bad..  
> I'm planning on this being a three part series. The next book may take a while to be released because I want to have it all done before I start putting up chapters, and I have to start from scratch with that book because I realized I totally hated the direction I originally made it go in so I deleted all my drafts. I'll try to release quickly once I finish it all though!! Thank you for reading <3

A couple of Steph’s teammates had asked – no, honestly, they were _begging_ him to go out and party for him. They knew some guy who could hook him up with a drink, because he was basically twenty-one and he deserved a reward, _and_ they’d seen some hot girls say they were going to the same bar that they usually celebrated at earlier so he could maybe get a little extra prize, _and_ they’d pay for his drinks, all that jazz. But Steph told them no, and adamantly refused to change his mind, claiming he was exhausted and just desperately needed to go back to his dorm and pass out for at least a day. They finally caved when he was about to snap at them, thankfully, and Steph was now driving home with a pout on his lips and a gigantic sad pit in his stomach that just wouldn’t fuck off.

He’d been blasting some random pop station on his drive up to the court before the game and hadn’t turned it off afterwards, so now some random Rihanna song that completely contrasted with his mood was playing, but he didn’t have the motivation to even change the station. He just wanted to get back to his dorm and curl up in his bed, and, though he would never admit it, probably end up crying himself to sleep.

He blamed himself for getting his own hopes up instead of LeBron. The older man had never promised him anything, never said he was going to stay after the game. Steph shouldn’t have expected anything from him and shouldn’t have been so disappointed when he found out LeBron wasn’t there anymore. It was his own fault for thinking anything of their one “special” encounter. Besides, LeBron had to get ready for his own game that night. That obviously took priority.

Finally, he reached the school parking lot, putting his car in park and locking it before speed walking up to his room. Luckily, his roommate was out on some study abroad trip for the next two weeks, so he wouldn’t need to worry about being questioned due to his very obviously depressed demeanor. He burst through the slightly opened dorm room door practically emanating sad energy, tossing his bag onto the small couch a few feet away from him, kicking off his shoes and trudging to his bedroom.

Normally Steph would shower after a game, because he was always sweaty and disgusting after playing for so long, but he didn’t even care much about the definite filth he was covered in in that moment. He just needed to sleep everything off, and in the morning, he’d get up earlier than everyone because he went to bed super early and he’d be able to take an extra-long shower.

He pushed open the door to his room, fully prepared to just strip down and collapse, when he froze.

LeBron James was sitting on his bed, flicking through the pages of his business textbook curiously, a grin on his face. “Thought you’d be out partyin’,” he said, licking his finger to flip over a page that had gotten stuck. “Was thinkin’ I’d have to wait for ya.”

Steph’s eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth contorted into something like a scowl. “W...what the hell?” he spluttered, his irritation taking control of his words over his nervousness. “You fuckin’ ditch right after the game just to wait for me here? How’d you even get in?”

LeBron finally looked up at him, smiling in a strange way that Steph couldn’t figure out. “Someone in your hall gave me a key. You didn’t notice the door left open?” Steph sucked a cheek in to chew on it again, looking away. He’d just walked in without much care, dropping his stuff on the floor and couch with his only intention being to pass out on his bed. His dorm area was full of other student athletes who definitely knew who LeBron was, though, so he knew at least one of them would jump at the chance to him the man out and give him a key.

“Anyway,” LeBron said as he put the book down, his face morphing into something that, despite him not fully knowing what emotion it was, sent a chill down Steph’s spine. “What’d I say last week?”

“You said to bring it,” Steph supplied, puffing out his chest a little bit in pride. “And I fuckin’ did. You saw my shot.” He smiled just thinking about it again. It was definitely one of his best shots he'd taken in college, if not just _the_ best, and he'd be damned if he didn't talk about it as much as possible at least until the next game.

LeBron shrugged. “It was good,” he admitted, but the tone of his voice made it sound like he was downplaying it, which irked Steph a little. He thought he would've gotten a little more praise than _that_. “I guess you want a reward?” He raised an eyebrow, and immediately Steph’s cheeks went red. He nodded hesitantly, still very cautious about...whatever it was he and LeBron were doing. “Get on the bed.”

The commanding tone was more than enough for Steph and he immediately followed suit, already feeling a tight sensation down low. LeBron tossed the textbook to the side, moving over on the too-small bed and pulling down his sweatpants and boxers with one movement easily. Steph almost gaped at the sheer size of the older man’s member, and felt his own twitch in part-anxiety part-excitement. He frantically grabbed at his shorts, realizing belatedly that he’d totally forgotten to take off his uniform before heading home, yanking them down as fast as he could. His safety shorts and boxers came with the pants, and his own member was finally set free, already angled towards the ceiling.

LeBron flipped him over onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillows, and put two fingers into his own mouth for a few seconds. Steph could hear sucking and slobbering noises, which for some reason only increase his arousal, and within moments the noises had stopped as LeBron inserted two wet fingers into his ass. He let out a choked gasp as the digits slid in easily and began moving around, slicking up every area they could find.

“Damn, you’re fuckin’ tight as hell,” LeBron mumbled, sounding vaguely impressed as he moved his fingers around inside Steph’s ass and continued eliciting pleasured sounds from the younger man. “S’like you were ready for me.”

Steph whined as the fingers were suddenly removed, but immediately his disappointed sounds turned into a surprised but definitely not upset grunt as the digits were quickly replaced with LeBron’s dick. _It’s too big,_ Steph thought, but he couldn’t get any words out with all the choked gasps he was releasing as LeBron began pounding fast and rhythmically. The man’s member was taking up all possible space in Steph’s ass, and he thought any excessive movement might tear something, but the pleasure was already building up and every slight thrust intensified the heat in his gut too much for him to even care about the pain.

He kept letting out little gasps, fingers twisting tightly around the fluffy parts of his pillow as he tried to desperately keep himself grounded, worried that with how much his hips rose with each thrust he might at one point fall off the bed. “Fuck,” he gasped out, legs lifted as LeBron began quickening his already fast pace. “Fuck, LeBron, holy shit.”

LeBron laughed from behind him, and moments later he felt a light slap on his ass that cut off his next gasp and turned it into a tiny high-pitched "ah!" “I knew you’d like that,” the older man said, sounding a little proud of himself. “You bein’ so fuckin’ good for me right now.”

The praise intensified Steph’s heat a lot more than he wanted to admit, and he let out another moan. His body tensed up a little, and he pushed himself up to look at his neglected dick. It was stiff as it could possibly be, even without being touched, riding up on the bedsheets with every movement Steph made. He pulled a shaky hand down to it, and began stroking at the same speed LeBron was thrusting at. “Ah, fuck,” he groaned out again, realizing he was already close. “LeBron, fuck, just a lil’ more, ah…” He waited for what he'd wanted, his heat bubbling inside of him like a volcano on the brink of eruption needing one more little push, but when his request wasn't honored, he turned around to look at the man with confused eyes.

"Ask me for it. Beg."

The commanding - no, the _demanding_ tone of LeBron's deep voice turned Steph to mush immediately despite his pride trying its best to keep control of him. He looked back at the older man as best as he could, breathing heavily against the pillow, hardly able to keep his eyes open. Saliva dripped from his mouth and he looked absolutely helpless, completely at LeBron's disposal.

"Please...I need it. Please give me more," he gasped out, eyes sliding shut at the overwhelming pressure against his ass and the feeling of everything in his dick practically begging to be set free.

Luckily, his words seemed to be enough, because hardly any seconds later LeBron let out a grunt from behind him as he slid in as far as possible, hitting Steph's prostate head on. The touch made Steph moan loud enough to where he was sure all of the other students in his hall could hear him, and it was enough to send him over the edge. He spilled into his hand and the sheets, letting out soft whines and a long sigh as he finally got to release everything. LeBron followed him soon after, releasing inside of Steph as he collapsed on top of him, nearly crushing the smaller man.

Steph didn’t move for a while after his release calmed down into a slow dribble, eyes sliding shut as he laid against the pillow enjoying his euphoric feeling. They laid together like that, breathing heavily as they attempted to get their thoughts back together again. Steph didn't want anything to change, because he'd never felt so _good,_ and he just wanted to lay in his pure contentment for hours until the last of the euphoria went away.

LeBron pulled out too soon and too quickly for Steph’s comfort, the sudden loss of feeling in his ass eliciting a tired whine from him, and seconds after he felt some more cum dripping down his leg as it began flowing into the new open space. “Listen,” LeBron rumbled, sounding pretty tired himself. “As much as I enjoyed this… I’ve got a game. I gotta go.”

Sighing, Steph rolled over and sat up on the bed very slowly so that he was looking at LeBron. The movements, despite being deliberately slow to lessen the pain, still managed to leave him hurting significantly more than he wanted, and he flinched a little as a jolt of pain flew through his body. “You better fuckin’ win,” he mumbled out, the words ragged and grating against his throat, but in the moment he didn’t care.

The words got a small grin from the older man. “I plan on it,” he said, sliding off the bed to grab his pants and boxers. “You might wanna get yourself cleaned up...although I do kinda like how you look right now.” He gestured to Steph’s legs, which the latter dazedly noted were even wetter than before thanks to the new streams going down his legs from when LeBron pulled out. He propped himself up a little more with his elbows to get a better look, and noticed that they were covered in streaks of cum. Flushing in embarrassment, he pressed his legs together quickly as if that would somehow make the mess disappear. The motion made his lower half ache far more than he thought it would, and he winced and hissed through gritted teeth in response.

“A’ight, I really gotta head out,” LeBron said, sounding a little disappointed, and the tone of his voice was enough to make Steph’s heart skip at least ten beats. He walked over to the smaller man, who was still sitting frozen on the bed with beet red cheeks, and leaned over, planting a wet but soft kiss on his left cheek. “See ya..." He turned and began walking, but then turned around one more time with a strange look on his face. "...baby.”

The name left Steph speechless, sitting on his bed with his hair an absolute mess, cheeks burning red and some extra saliva still dripping down from his chin. His hands were clasped together over his still-closed legs, but the droplets of cum all over his hands made the attempt to hide the mess on his legs kind of pointless. He was still breathing a little heavily, eyes half-lidded as he stared at LeBron, and his mouth hung open slightly like he wanted to speak but was unable to find any words to say. In short, he was the dictionary definition of "fucked up." LeBron grinned at the sight, proud of himself, and turned around to walk out the door without another word.

As he heard the lock on his dorm room door click shut, indicating that it was locked and he was all alone once again, Steph felt a single butterfly swoop down in his stomach, lightly brushing its delicate wings against his insides just enough to be noticeable, and eventually fly up and perch itself right on top of his still rapidly-beating heart.


End file.
